


An Ineffable Nativity Pageant

by NTonks



Series: Raising Warlock [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, found family fluff, nativity pageant, really just an excuse to make fun of Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTonks/pseuds/NTonks
Summary: Warlock is cast as Gabriel in the school Nativity Pageant, and his caretakers opinions of the archangel show in his performance.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Raising Warlock [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053500
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of Brother Francis the gardener, Aziraphale is Cook Frances in this series.

Nanny Ashtoreth, also known as the demon Crowley, was waiting in the walk-up pickup line. She looks up as the bell rings and the doors open to let out a swarm of small children in navy and tan school uniforms. 

She holds up her caregiver ID badge and waits for Warlock to come running up. 

“Nanny!” he yells, running and wrapping his arms around her legs in a hug.

“Oof!” she laughs, “What have I said about slowing down before hugging me, hellspawn? One of these days you’re going to take me out with your hugs.”

Warlock laughs, grabbing Nanny’s hand, “You’re silly Nanny.”

They start walking home, Warlock launching into his report of what he’d done in class that day.

“...and I got every problem right on my maths test!” he finishes up as they turn the corner onto his street, “Oh, also I have a paper I’m going to need you to sign when we get home.”

Nanny looks down, seeing Warlock smile and add a bit of bounce to his step.

“Oh really? What might this paper be about?” she asks.

Warlock grins up at her, “Issa surprise! I can’t tell you until we’re home ‘cause Cook will want to know too!”

“My, it must be big news then,” Nanny drawls, “Well, lucky for you, we’re home.”

They walk to the back door, and Warlock lets go of Nanny’s hand so he can dart off to the kitchen. Nanny can hear the sound of him greeting Cook Frances, aka Aziraphale.

“Now, go wash your hands, darling,” Cook instructs, the same as she does every day, “I’ll get a snack together for you.”

Nanny makes her way into the kitchen at a more leisurely pace, and watches to make sure Warlock actually washes his hands rather than just sticking them under the water.

Warlock hops up into the bar stool at the kitchen island and thanks Cook when she places a bowl of yoghurt in front of him. Nanny thinks about discouraging such polite behavior, but decides to let this one slide. The Antichrist can be evil and still have basic manners. 

Cook Frances also sets out a cup of tea for Nanny, milk and a dash of sugar that only Aziraphale knows Crowley takes, “There you are, my dear, you were looking a bit chilled from the walk.”

Nanny doesn’t comment, but takes up the tea and gratefully lets the warmth seep into her fingers. She may not actually be cold-blooded, but the serpentine weakness to the cold is consistent across all her forms.

After he’s gotten halfway through his snack, Nanny prompts, “You had some news you wanted to tell us, little hellspawn?”

“Oh, yeah!” Warlock nods frantically and tugs up his school bag from the floor. He pulls out a piece of paper and thrusts it at Nanny. Before she can even read it, Warlock shouts, “I’m gonna be Gabriel in this year’s Nativity pageant!”

On the other side of Warlock, Cook Frances chokes on her cocoa. Nanny herself looks down at the paper to confirm. 

We are pleased to announce that your child will be portraying the role of The Angel Gabriel in this year’s Nativity pageant. Please check below for costume requirements and rehearsal schedule.

“Well, that’s certainly a bigger role than Sheep #3 last year,” Nanny says slowly, “Gabriel always liked the sound of his own voice, so I imagine you’ll have quite a few lines.”

Warlock nods enthusiastically, swallowing a spoonful of yoghurt before saying, “ Mr. Vasquez says we should find inspiration for our characters to help ‘breathe life into the role’. Do you know what the Angel Gabriel would be like?” (1) 

This might seem an odd question to some but, for all 7 years of his life so far, Warlock had functioned on the belief that Nanny and Cook knew everything. Any question he asked them, he was positive he would either get a completely accurate answer or guidance in finding the answer himself. This belief had yet to be proven false to Warlock, so he continued asking questions with the comfort of knowing that any answer he received would be reliable.

Nanny cocks her head to the side in the way that meant she was about to say something that will make Cook laugh and then yell.

“Do you remember that MP who came to dinner last week?”

Warlock frowns and thinks back, “The one who kept calling me ‘sport’ and making jokes that made Mommy look angry?”

Nanny nods, “Gabriel is a lot like him.”

A laugh bursts out of Cook, who quickly covers her mouth and smack’s Nanny’s arm, “Really, my dear! You shouldn’t say such things!”

“Why not? S’true!” Nanny protests, “He’s a political type, big show-off who thinks he’s better than everyone else and expects them to know it! Likes to tell people what to do and point out when they’re wrong. Makes a lot of jokes that aren’t actually that funny and just make the people around him uncomfortable.”

Cook gives out a little huff, “Well,be that as it may, it’s still not polite to say it.”

She turns to Warlock and smiles, “I’ll tell you the true story of how things happened, dear, it can be your bedtime story tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks pass in a blur. Nanny ended up getting pulled into helping sew costumes. She spent about 10 minutes seeing if she remembered how to hand sew, before snapping her fingers at the piles of cloth until they turned into something that matched the provided pattern and roughly resembled shepherd’s robes.

Crowley refused to call them actual shepherd’s robes, having worn the real things, and when she came up to the room a bit later, Aziraphale agreed.

“I know you were following the pattern, my dear girl, but good Heaven!” she exclaimed, holding up one of the child-sized robes, “I mean, there’s no shape to these at all! It’s practically a sack with sleeves! Also, where is the decoration? No stitching on the hems, no over layers? Do these people think every shepherd in Jerusalem was living in abject poverty?”

“I think they’re costumes meant for a primary school play and the drama department probably didn’t bother hiring an actual historian to vet the authenticity of the wardrobe,” Crowley drawls, taking the pins out of her hair.

“Oh, let me help dear,” Aziraphale insists, placing the robe back in the pile and taking the brush from Crowley. She slowly started brushing, taking care to smooth over Crowley’s curls, “Have you told him both his parents will be unable to make it?”

Crowley growls a bit, still furious over this fact, “Yesss, talked about it with him on our afternoon walk. I don’t know what’s more wrong, that they won’t come or that he wasn’t even that upset about it. The lad just wanted to make sure you and I will be there.”

The brush pauses for a moment as Aziraphale lets out a slow breath. Crowley can feel the faintest stirrings of angelic wrath move through the ether as the angel tries to calm herself.

“The um, the calendar we got at the beginning of the school year…?” she trails off.

“Yes, it had the date on there,” Crowley confirms bitterly, “So there were multiple months for them to ensure that the bloody charity gala was on a different night, and that they’d both be in the country.”

Aziraphale mutters something that sounds like Aramaic profanity, before switching back to English, “Well, we’ll just have to ensure the night is all the more special then. What do you think about taking the lad out for a special dinner after?”

“He does like going out to eat at restaurants when he’s not forced to wear an uncomfortable suit,” Crowley muses, already pulling out her phone to make the reservation, “Also maybe some little memento? I could get one of those instant-print cameras and put some pictures into a little book for him.”

“Oh, I bet he’d love that!” Aziraphale agrees, “He was telling me the other day he wanted to learn to take pictures. You could even give him the camera as an early Christmas present. Also, your hair is done dear.”

Crowley nods, putting in the order for the camera before turning in her chair.

“Alright, we’re going to make this night as special as possible for the little hellspawn. In the meantime, trade and let me do your hair?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hark and do not be afeared!” Warlock-as-Gabriel shouts, walking in from the side of the stage. His wings seem to be shedding feathers every step he takes and his sparkly wire halo is crooked. 

In the audience, Crowley smiles to see that Warlock managed to keep the lilac sash that Aziraphale had given him to add to his costume. No one else would care, but the Angel enjoyed their little added detail of authenticity.

On the stage, Mary gives her best impression of awe and kneels.

“What appears before me? A most Holy Angel of the Lord?” she asks, the volume of her voice seemingly to swing on each word, “What message do you bring to me angel?”

“I am the archangel Gabriel!” Warlock responds woodenly, spreading his arms wide, “and I come with Good News. A miracle has happened, and you are to give birth to the Son of the Lord God.”

Now, Mary looks up and waves her arms about to mime confusion.

“But how can this be?” she asks, each word painfully stilted, “I am a virgin and not yet wed to my beloved Joseph!”

“Um…” Warlock freezes and seems to be fumbling over his words, “The...the Holy Spirit…”

Warlock-as-Gabriel looks out to the audience. He quickly spots Nanny and Cook in the first row, who both give encouraging smiles. He smiles back, and then shifts his stance on stage. Gabriel puts his hands on his hips and thrusts out his chest.

“Listen Mary, I don’t know what the word virgin means. I keep asking, but no one will tell me,” Warlock frowns accusingly into the audience of adults at this, “I don’t think it matters though, whether or not you’re married to Joseph. You’re having God’s baby, not Joseph’s baby. I don’t really understand the whole deal about babies are made, but this is a miracle baby though, so it probably just happens.”

Multiple adults in the audience are laughing at this point, though none as loudly as the two women in the front row.

From the side of the stage, the drama teacher can be seen frantically waving at Warlock to stop.  
“You should be fine though, and since you can’t get married to God, I think you can still marry Joseph. We’ll make sure he understands about the baby.”

The girl playing Mary looks horrified at Warlock for going off script. She looks back at the teacher for a moment, but-- getting no helpful sign of what to do-- decides to just stick to the lines she had memorized.

“Oh most Holy and Glorious Angel Gabriel,” she asks, and pauses when she thinks she hears someone in the audience snort and say Certainly wasn’t subtle in influencing this narrative, was he? She frowns and doggedly continues, “why was I, out of all maidens chosen to receive this miracle?”

Gabriel shrugs, “I dunno. Not my job to make the choice, I’m just here to tell you. Don’t complain, at least you’re not having to build a giant boat for animals, this one is an easy job. Just practice changing nappies.”

At this point, the drama teacher has stepped onto the stage and looks furious as she points at Gabriel and then points behind him to the stage left.

“I guess I have to go now. Oh! Nearly forgot, you have to name the baby Jesus, that’s important! Right, Gabriel out!” Gabriel shouts. Then, with a cheeky smirk at the teacher that Crowley recognizes all too well, the Angel Gabriel dabs before running off the stage.

“That was amazing,” Crowley laughs, wiping tears from under her sunglasses.

“Surprisingly accurate in tone, if not the proper language,” Aziraphale chuckles, covering her mouth, “I may have gone a bit too much off the accepted script when he asked me to tell him the real Nativity story.”

Crowley reaches out and briefly squeezes Aziraphale’s hand, “I’m so glad you did. It’s a much better story this way, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale’s nose wrinkles as she shoots Crowley a mischievous grin, “Well, let’s just hope this isn’t the Nativity play Gabriel decides to look in on this year.”

The rest of the play goes off mostly without a hitch, with the exception of the scene where directions are given to the Three Kings.

The Angel Gabriel walks out again, this time flanked by two other angels. Then, with a wink to his Nanny, he uses his elbow to nudge the unnamed angel standing to his right.

“I thought these three were supposed to be wise men! Hey, if you three are so wise, why are you going in the wrong direction? Follow the giant star you dummies!”

The other angels both gasp, and the one on the left actually pushes Gabriel off stage, returns, and gives the Three Kings their proper directions as was written in the original script.

Crowley looks over at Aziraphale, “Did you tell him that Gabriel insulted the Magi?”

Aziraphale looks shocked, “No! I just said he gave them directions. I certainly never let anyone know I stuck around and rephrased the directions more politely after Gabriel left.”

Crowley nearly chokes laughing, “Well, I guess after the show we can tell Bethany Davies that her unnamed angel role should have been called Aziraphale.”

The real Aziraphale frowns, “Hush, you fiend. Oh, look! I think that little lad there is supposed to be that sweet shepherd boy who played the drum!”

“Yes, because what better gift to give a new mother than waking up her baby with a drum solo?” Crowley drawls, “You know that was my idea, right?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, “Obviously, I figured it out the moment it happened. I also know that when the baby wouldn’t go back to sleep, I saw a snake hide under some hay and sing a lullaby that soothed the babe.”

Crowley hissed, “Never happened, Angel. Quit spreading slander.”


	3. Chapter 3

The kids on stage take their final bow, and both Crowley and Aziraphale give a standing ovation like they were at the Royal Opera House. Warlock beams at them from the stage, and runs over as soon as he’s allowed.

“What did you think?!” he asks, letting them both sweep him up into hugs.

“Oh, you were marvelous, darling!” Cook coos, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Very impressive improv, little hellspawn,” Nanny says with a smirk, wiping Cook’s lipstick mark off a second later, “it was like the Angel Gabriel was right there in front of us. Now, shall we take some photos of you with your castmates before you change out of your costume?”

Warlock eagerly rushes over to the area where all the other parents are clustered taking photos, his normal sullen shyness around his schoolmates forgotten in the excitement of the play. He even reluctantly agrees to stand for a photo with Trixie Carter who had played Mary, even though she was still obviously cross with him for changing the script.

Trixie’s mother, the unopposed leader of the PTA for three years running, then directs all the children to line up to take photos with their families. She pointedly ignores Warlock as he hovers awkwardly on the edge of the group.

Ms. Karnad, Warlock’s teacher, looks over at him. She thinks about the way Warlock is always beaming as he tells stories about his Cook and Nanny when he shares them at Monday circle time. She thinks about how he added them both into his family portrait, and actually put them on either side of himself in the picture, with his parents on the outside of the group. She thinks about how he asked them to call his Nanny when he got the flu last month, and the fact that these two women were the ones here, tonight, hugging him and cheering him on. She thinks about her own parents, who she stopped speaking to when she turned 16, and the aunt she considers her real family.

Ms. Karnad tells Trixie’s mother to wait and walks over to Warlock. She kneels down in front of him to speak.

“Warlock, do you want to take your family picture first?”

Warlock looks up, eyes wide. He starts to smile, then pauses uncertainly and whispers, “Um...Ms. Karnad...my parents aren’t…”

“I know, I recognized your Nanny, and isn’t that Cook Frances from your family portrait?” she smiles and prompts, “Lots of people have different types of families…”

Warlock’s whole face lights up as he finishes, “and they’re all special in their own way!”

He runs, grabs the hands of the two women, and pulls them over to his teacher. Both the women look shocked and uncomfortable, but clearly can’t say no to the boy.

“If you let me take your camera, I wanted Warlock to have a picture with his family tonight,” she explains, hoping her meaning is clear.

The tall, red-headed Nanny gives her an assessing look through her sunglasses, then hands over the instant print camera, “If you wouldn’t mind taking a couple, we’d appreciate it.”

They end up with three different photos of Nanny and Cook with Warlock. The two adults still look a bit uncertain in their smiles, but their love for the young boy between them is clear. Warlock has the biggest smile in these photos out of all the ones taken that night. 

Years later, when Crowley opens a safe in his flat to retrieve a thermos full of Holy Water, he pauses for the briefest moment to look at the other precious items kept in the safe. One of those items is a small instant camera print of two women kneeling with their arms wrapped around a young boy dressed as an angel.


End file.
